The Lucky Horse of Trost Theater
by attack on baltic
Summary: Armin Arlert, a 15-year-old miracle countertenor, had hoped for the best when the new managers and his childhood friend Eren Jaeger had arrived at the Trost Theater, where he performed. That would become unlikely after Jean, Arlert's mysterious singing teacher appeared. After various events involving the young man with a horse mask, Armin must choose life with Jean, or Vis. Jaeger.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Au Revoir, Old Trost Theater

It was the night of the last performance before the two managers of the Trost Theater were to retire when the rumor broke out. It came from one of the scene shifters, told by them to one of the chorus dancers, then to the lead soprano singer, Hitch Dreyse, who with a shriek of fright, told dance captain, Marco Bodt about the frightful description. As Marco listened on, a hint of realization spread across his face. "Of course, Ms. Dreyse. That's exactly what I've told every person who has ever set foot into this fine theater! I just knew it!" he blurted. The soprano rolled her eyes in sheer disgust of the dancer's fantastical state of mind "I only heard from one of the dancers that a gypsy ghost kid had been spotted in and around the back entrance to the theater. I could have expected whoever _that_ was to be the one pulling all those dumb pranks during shows, but spooks aren't real and neither are your dumb childhood epiphanies of them."

"Well if you stick your tone deaf ears into the walls, then you might just believe, for once." Stated the dance captain, putting his head against the wall of the dressing room, carefully listening to what sounded like an old pump-organ coming from above. "Why, I can hear it now. Music from the heavens. It must be the theater ghost! Come here, Ms. Dreyse, and you may listen for yourself..." As Marco was about to add another fact of truth to the theory, Hitch began to mirror his movements against the concrete "I do not hear it, so you must be wrong." she bluntly replied, then up and leaving to go say her goodbyes to the old managers. "Adios, you dimwitted, untalented ballerina." she added. "Besides, why should I ever listen to you. You're the one who got me replaced with that dumb Aryan countertenor, earlier today, you know."

It was at this point that Marco decided to explain to his fellow colleague formerly in the chorus and best friend, Armin Arlert, the most talented male singer in the theater, about the ghost. The brunette raced out of the dressing room, forgetting that he wasn't wearing a shirt, to backstage, where Armin had been standing. "Armin, you're never going to believe this!" the dancer almost yelled. "Hush! Hitch Dreyse is giving her speech, and you can probably be heard by the audience if you keep screaming like that." The blond scolded his friend in a slightly muted tone. "Also, why are you without a top? That is improper dress code of the Trost Theater. Come speak to me when we have the time and you are wearing decent clothing."

As Marco darted back to the dressing room to put his casual button-up on, Armin was called to the stage to introduce the new managers. Almost simultaneously, as the countertenor began to step into the limelight once more, a yowl came from Hitch on the opposite end of the stage; from above, a piece of one of the backdrops fell from what was thought to be its tightly secured place, out of the audience's view, and onto the poor soprano. A long sob came from her mouth when one of the scene shifters decided to help her up. As soon as she regained her balance, Hitch ran off of the stage in a panicked, humiliated, flurry.

Armin sighed nervously and shakily introduced the new managers of the Trost Theater. "Ladies and gentlemen, of our most grateful audience, I would be the most proud to introduce the two fine gentlemen who shall be running our theater from now on. Though it is such a pity to see our former managers retire, the whole cast and I are so fortunate to be blessed with such fine new bosses now. Without further a due, may I welcome Mr. Erwin Smith, and Mr. Levi Ackerman to center-stage please?" The two men, one a burly tall blond man, and the other a slender brunette, with an almost permanently pessimistic expression on his face, and lacking the usual height of a man his age, both casually strolled on to the stage, waving to audience members.

Before the royally clad singer could continue, a note was passed to him. Upon reading it out loud, a stutter approached his speech "It appears there is a special guest, too. He will also be helping with our new and improved theater, by making donations from his family's wealth. This fine gentleman is E-Eren... Jaeger?" Tears began to form at the corners of his round baby-blue eyes. Eren Jaeger, the best kid a doctor could have- the best friend a kid could have- the child who was heartbroken when his best friend was forced to move after the sudden death of his grandfather. "Eren?" Armin called once more.

"Armin!" A voice replied from offstage. Then, the aristocrat dressed in the finest of suits, appeared. When first spotting him, the singer almost yelped in surprise. In the short period of a few years, Eren had matured gracefully, and his appearance was sharper than Armin remembered. "Look at you, you've grown up fine." the brunette burst, full of merriment and joy, almost proceeding to pick Armin up by his waist, but stopping himself, with just an embrace-full hug. "Eren, I thought that I would never see you again." The blond sobbed into his shoulder. "Well, I thought I'd find you somewhere in the show business, eventually. Your grandfather, may God bless his musical soul, was a great composer, and you shall follow in similar footsteps as a great singer." He whispered quickly before pressing on with his appearance.

Eren turned to the audience and spoke in a suddenly more serious tone "I plan to make sure that not only the cast's conditions are adequate at this theater, but that every viewer in the house is pleased with all that we have to offer. My father left the money he made as a doctor to me, and I plan to use it wisely." He announced, then turning back to Armin. "I shall talk to you as soon as I can, after I speak with Mr. Ackerman and Mr. Smith."

"Alright, Eren. When should that be?'

"In maybe a few hours. I'll be right by your side, then." Eren replied, crossing over to backstage. The blond turned in the opposite direction, and left the stage, so that another cast member could make their speech.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Armin on Gypsy: It Works Every Time

There was a single flame lit in the center of one of the many rooms in the backstage of the theater. Beside it sat a colorless worn photograph of an old man with an ancient nondescript play write in one hand- the man who had raised young Armin after the death of his parents. The singer had come to the minuscule chapel within the walls of the Trost Theater religiously on every anniversary of the death of his grandfather. Coincidentally, that exact night when everything changed for Armin on two separate occasions were one in the same.

The blond whispered several prayers in honor of his deceased grandfather. Over his words, a slightly audible voice could be heard from above. "Armin..." It half whispered. The singer noticed it, half-expecting it, and not taking any notice. Before the voice could repeat the call, footsteps flooded the room, and soon, Marco Bodt, dance captain of the Trost Theater, for once wearing a shirt, was seen racing to Armin's side.

"There you are!" his voice filled every corner of the premises "I was worried you went somewhere, and I would never have the chance to tell you something exciting."

"Yes, what is it?" The countertenor replied, a bit curious about what was to be mentioned. "Do you remember when we were young and I used to fantasize about the theater ghost?"

"Of course! What about a theater ghost are you going to speak of?"

"There's one actually here in the theater!" Marco exclaimed. "He lives here and pulls all those pranks on us."

Armin paused and thought for a moment, before continuing. "That is no ghost... That is an angel. My grandfather promised me that when he died, he would somehow supernaturally teach me to become musically advanced. It must be him. Today is the same date he passed away those few years ago, if you didn't know."

"Armin, I know that someone has been teaching you to sing. You used to vocalize like a baby seal being spanked to death," the brunette teased "but it can't really be your grandfather. That can't be right. It's just fantasy." Before Marco could continue, Armin cut him off "Then I suppose your epiphanies are, too, unless you get chills and become pale from them." he replied, standing up and walking upstairs. The dancer followed closely.

"I am frightened at times, Marco." Armin admitted. "Don't be." he replied quickly. "I think the angel part could be real. Don't doubt it. Who knows? The ghost topic was just a rumor. Also, there is other news that I should report to you. First, Hitch Dreyse has quit her job after the incident tonight. Second, that Eren Jaeger gentleman thought you sang charmingly tonight and wishes to treat you to dinner."

At the thought of Eren taking him out on incentive, Armin's heart sank. "If he is looking to glorify me in every way possible, that cannot be. My tutor, for whomever he is, forbids me from falling in love, as it will distract me from my work. Also, I should probably go rest in my room. Tonight was stressful as it was, and I do not wish to wake up with a broken voice." He replied swiftly out of fear, quickly leaving Marco in the chapel alone.

The blond dashed into his dressing room, and locked the door. How could he get out of this situation? There was enough pressure of life building up within him already. Armin began to calm down, closely listening for anyone, or anything outside of the room. Changing into his night robes, he sat at his powder station, gazing into the mirror. Out of the corner of his eye, a single deep scarlet rose with a ribbon tied around it, stood out from the other hundreds of flowers in various bouquets.

Out of curiosity, he gently grabbed it and studied it. For each performance in which he had been cast as a major role, he would receive one. Perhaps, it was the mysterious tutor, or a crazed fan. Armin wouldn't have known the truth if it weren't for his quick, yet wise decisions in the future. After his mind raced with questions of the strange single bud for a long while, a knock came to the door. The sound almost made the singer jump out of his chair before he began stammering to the one behind the door. "Wh-who is it?"

"Why, it is just myself, as I promised." Answered the Viscount Jaeger. "May I come in?"

"No, you may not." Armin replied "I am not looking for a relationship or anything like that. To be quite honest, I'm not in the mood for anything."

"Alright. I guess I'll just go, then" Eren sighed with disappointment. The countertenor was crushed by his comrade's tone. It hurt the blond to be so blunt and standoffish, but it was for his own good, as he thought. On the other side of the door, the wealthy teen was also in deep disheartening. What had caused his childhood friend to become so pessimistic had bewildered him greatly. He turned and left.

After it was too late, Armin ran to the door, unlocked it, and stepped outside, realizing that Eren had gone too soon. Turning back, and closing the door, someone had locked it from the outside as soon as he had closed it. The singer tried to open the door again, panicking.

"I thought I told you not to go falling for anyone!" boomed a voice from above- Armin's singing teacher, was most certainly strange, for being a teacher. "I apologize, teacher." He replied fearfully. "I wasn't thinking. Please don't leave me. I swear it won't happen again."

"Then, come. Look to the powder station mirror. Look slowly, though." The voice-coach started "You may or may not be surprised, and I do not wish for you to be frightened."

The countertenor turned almost reluctantly, staring into the mirror, noticing the shape of a mature teen- around sixteen or seventeen years old... But with a head in the shape of a horse's, obviously a mask. Armin wished to question the strange sight, but knew it was not polite. "Look to where my reflection is, and I want you to follow me. For your information, I am the reason you sing so heavenly." It said. "Take my hand and I shall train your voice to be even more extravagant than before."

Blindly, the boy in robes took the horse-gypsy's hand and it led him away from the dressing room. "What is your name?" asked the naive blond. "Jean." It answered almost immediately. "

"Do you live in the Trost Theater?"

"Why, yes."

"Are you a ghost, or angel of some sort?"

"If you want me to be."

"Are you a gypsy?"

"That's a little impersonal, but I must say, 'once a gypsy, always a gypsy.'." Jean answered. "Any more question's, like 'why the mask'?" he added, while leading the way up to the stage catwalks, many nauseating meters above the stage. "Why?" Armin stated simply. The boy turned, his mask emotionless, but his voice filled with pure expression, as the platform they were on swayed from their weight. "Do you know of secret inner beauty? Are you the type to find every person gorgeous in one way or another? Is it that even freaks are good people?" He asked, climbing a few wooden stairs into a crevice in the ceiling. "Of course." the singer replied.

Jean paused before continuing when Armin was safely inside the hidden lair, within the hole. "Then I shall show you what darkness is found within this horse." He finally replied, taking off the mask to reveal a boy with an impossibly massive, wide jaw and a mop of horribly trimmed, ashy brunette-blond-hair, that probably no mother could love.

Armin covered a gasp in disgust and fear. The ugliness was too much for him to bear. Before he knew it, the air turned musty, everything grew dim, and the lighter blond was out cold, fainted from shock.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Could One Ever Dream?

Inside the lair in the rafters, the young singer lay unconscious for several hours. When he would wake, it would be slowly. First, he would come back into awareness of his surroundings. After that, he would blink away the sleep, calmly. When he realized were he was, though, Armin panicked and nearly jumped off of the mattress that Jean was suspected of placing him on, after passing out.

Though his attack was short, it grabbed the attention of the gypsy, who was masked once more, and at work in front of an ancient pump-organ. Jean looked towards the countertenor and rasped out "I see you're awake. It's been almost sixteen hours. How was your rest?"

At this, Armin seemed confused at first, but his memories from the night before rushed back into his mind. "I was lead here, in the dead of night... High above the stage; and you, the stallion, were the one to guide me from a music-less night." He whispered tiredly. "Then, you showed me..."

"Yes." the mysterious darker blond replied with a hint of aggression. "Come here, now." He then spoke with a more relaxed mood. "I wish to show you something that you'd be pleased with."

Hesitantly, the petite boy rose to his feet and stumbled a bit towards Jean, fearfully, yet curiously. Armin thought to himself about the incident the night before, and the horror he had seen. He had hardly even seen Jean's frightful face, before fainting. The performer wished to get a better look. Once he got closer to the masked boy, he glanced at the play write Jean had written. Then, he moved his hand close to the mask.

The disfigured boy moved Armin's hand away, sensing the tension. The lighter blond gasped silently, but proceeded to move his hand to an area slightly lower than before. With one swift movement, he moved the mask away from Jean's face, to reveal his deformities. This was not what would frighten him. He actually felt slight relief before Jean would be thrown into a fit of rage.

"You idiot!" He yelled as he slapped Armin with a force that knocked the poor singer off his feet. "Don't you ever do that again, or there _will_ be harsh consequences. I will keep you here for eternity, if you don't behave, got that?"

The shorter blond nodded quickly through tears, staggering on the ground as if he had become a rag-doll. "Y-yes, Jean. I understand." He sobbed out of fright.

"Look up." the gypsy demanded through clenched teeth, openly showing his retched face. Once Armin agreed and stared up in a mix of horror and intrigue, Jean continued "This is what you see- a demon- a monster... How do you like me now? Are you frightened? Are you disgusted by the horror of the real me?"

"In all true honesty, yes, but that does not define a person. It is how pure the soul is, that matters." He replied, picking up the horse head and handing it to Jean. Putting it back on, the demented boy took the countertenor's hand, helped him up and began to lead him back to the main floor of the theater. "We must get back. The managers and the rest of my theater's employees must be searching everywhere for you." He changed the subject, as if nothing had happened. They left, and Armin raced to his dressing room, after Jean left him alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Never Ending Notes

Meanwhile, people from all over Trost had flown into rage over the recent disappearance of their angelic countertenor. Gossip had spread all over the district, concluding various culprits for the disappearance- even aliens were to blame, though the only one to actually came to the correct conclusion on who had taken Armin, or where he went, was none other than Marco. "It's the 'Lucky Horse of Trost Theater'." He'd mutter the new nickname for the the mysterious one lurking in the shadows of the theater.

Even when it was late in the afternoon, sounds of bustle and local rumors could be heard for kilometers around. Soon enough, a distressed Erwin Smith would burst through the front doors of his new shared theater. "All these rumors." He said to himself, shaking his head. "Aliens, crazed fans, whoever the guy is who claims to be the owner of this theater! It's all nonsense, yet where could Mr. Arlert be? Such terrors already, have happened while Levi and I have only been here less than one day. First, Ms. Hitch quiting, and now, Armin going missing."

Soon enough, the short, slender, Levi Ackerman appeared in the lobby of the Trost Theater, looking more distraught than usual. "This is all crap!" He exclaimed at Erwin. "Read this." he demanded, holding up a letter. "Calm down. This is nothing to panic over." Erwin replied, taking the letter out of Levi's hand. "But we don't have any lead sopranos!" The shorter man shouted. "You need to read this letter I have received."

"I've got one, too." Erwin shot back before he opened the letter and read out loud:

"Dear Mr. Ackerman, last night's performance was spectacular, wasn't it? Hopefully, I shall be just as pleased during a performance as when you and Mr. Erwin Smith start with your work. Armin Arlert is an amazing performer and I request you keep him in the limelight. If the dreadful Ms. Dreyse were to come back for her former job, turn her down, or there will be consequences. Thank you."

The tall blond paused before taking out his own letter and reading it as well.

"Mr. Smith, I wish to inform you that my salary for running this fine theater has not been paid. Please send every last cent. Thank you. -L.H.T.T." It read.

"Who in the hell would come up with such rubbish?" Both men said almost simultaneously, glancing at each other in surprise. Levi began to say "I believe it must be that Jaeger kid, signing under a pen-name!", when the viscount, himself, burst into the foyer, dashing confidentially to the two managers, cutting Levi off with blaming both men for Armin's disappearance.

"Where is Mr. Arlert?" He asked anxiously. Erwin replied "How should I know? Mr. Ackerman and I have not seen him since last night!"

"Well, are you not the ones who sent me this letter?"

"No." replied Erwin. "I suppose you're being written to as well?"

"Yes." The viscount answered. "My letter reads: "All is well for Mr. Arlert. He is safe with yours truly and out of harm's way. He does not wish to be seeing any of you again. Make no rescue attempts, as they will prove fruitless." If you didn't write this, who did?"

Just as the three were about to come to their senses that Hitch Dreyse was the culprit for writing each threat, the soprano, along with several of her agents walked into the theater, demanding that she see Eren Jaeger at once. "I can't believe you would right such horrible things about me!" she shrieked at the brunette.

"I don't write hate, first of all, and second of all, Levi, Erwin, and I are also being written to. What does your note say?" Eren said, immediately having Hitch shove the envelope into his hand. "Read it!" She snapped.

"Ms. Dreyse, you are no longer wanted here in the Trost Theater. I think you got the hint from last night's little incident. If you get your job back as the lead singer instead of Armin Arlert returning once more to replace you in the spotlight, be aware that you shall be punished in the worst possible way.-"

"No, no, this is all too much!" Both managers said, as they each received a death glare from the soprano. They both took one of both of the soprano's arms, and began to lead her away to help her with the reconstruction of her career, before hearing Marco Bodt's kind voice call after them.

"Armin's back!" He shouted. "Where is he?" Asked everyone all asked at one time. "Well, it was a bit of a long night for him, so I thought that it was good for him to get some sleep, for once." He admitted sheepishly, knowing that his stalling had caused so much controversy. "Anyways, I do have a note, that Armin brought back with him from wherever he was." Marco also added.

He took it out and read it. "Salutations to everyone. Based on every correction that I have sent you, that is how my theater is to be run. Along with this last note, is a play I have written, and I wish to have it performed as soon as possible. The main role, either played as a count or a countess, shall be played by Mr. Arlert. The most minor role, the page boy, is a silent role and shall be played by Ms. Dreyse. I will be watching from the box seat labeled for me, and if my orders are not followed, you will pay. Sincerely, T.G." He said with a gasp.

"That is ridiculous!" Screamed Hitch, before storming off while sobbing. Both managers followed quickly, and attempted to console her. "Ms. Dreyse. Those silly rules mean nothing to us. You will be playing countess, and Mr. Arlert will be playing the pageboy." Erwin said to her. That was what immediately calmed the soprano down. "you will be a limelight princess once more. Come, come. We must get you ready."


End file.
